Princess Carry : My Gentleman!
by ChaosGamer
Summary: T-this feeling, this impression of being enveloped in this sort of physical intimacy...! / Me, becoming enamored by that ape's apelike physicality...? NO! / Touma x Kuroko. JusticeShipping.
1. Blue Paintcan

September 21st.

That was the day her troubles began.

In terms of weather it was actually rather nice, to be frank. Her, onee-sama, Saten, and Uiharu. That day was the day where they agreed upon meeting up in a park for a picnic with some dangos as a snack.

Her first careless oversight was volunteering to be the one to pick up the dangos. Her second blunder, though in no fault of her own, was running into _him_. That same monkey who was a continual line-stepper in his attempts to seduce onee-sama.

"Bghh," the noise of distaste already exhaled from her mouth upon her spotting him. "That ape," she mumbled as she watched him roaming near her. He appeared to be looking for something. "What is he doing here? Unless-"

Perhaps... he was looking for onee-sama.

As if she'd ever let that sort of stunt slide.

"I ought to keep my eyes on him..."

Eventually, Touma noticed those familiar set of pigtails in turn.

"Shirai-san," Touma greeted with a surprised expression.

"Mr. Kamijou," Kuroko stiffly replied.

In Kuroko's mind, her glare was filled to brim with distrust and suspicion. But to Touma and every other observer, it appeared almost playful. Who knows why that was.

"...Didn't really expect to see you here," Touma chuckled with a forced smile on his face.

"Neither did I," Kuroko replied, theories as to his reason for being here flying in her head.

"Index wanted to enjoy the weather outside, you see..."

Apparently there was no need to ask; he was confessing on his own volition...

_Yes... confess, and continue to confess, you underhanded ape,_ Kuroko snarled in her head, _confess and reveal your intentions to find and ensnare onee-sama with your guile!_

"...I'm trying to find the dango stand I heard was near here because she was hungry... say, Shirai-san, are you here with friends of your own, also?"

"-I, too, am enjoying this weather outside as well with one of my coworkers from Judgment, yes." _Trying to pry with a sudden question to gain some sort of information? Nice try. As if I'd tell you that onee-sama also came along with us..._

Dangos, hmm? How... coincidental. Kuroko's suspicions rose further when she wondered as to why this apeish gentleman was seeking dangos at the same time when she was out here walking toward the dango stand as well. To be fair, Kuroko admitted, the dango stand nearby was rather renown for their quality.

Her main concern was the possibility of this ape encountering onee-sama. Under no circumstances would she allow that to happen. To her, this man-ape, Mr. Kamijou, appeared to have nigh-supernatural ability when it came to ensnaring unsuspecting maidens. In that respect, he was to be feared more than a castle-dwelling dragon. If she let this ape-man go out of her sight, the possibility of him somehow running across onee-sama along with Saten and Uiharu and using his guile to become cozy with all three of them... that was not an unlikely possibility.

It was decided, then. She ought to keep a close eye on him, to make sure he returns to his friend with his dangos; to make sure he stays far, far away from onee-sama.

"You're in luck, Mr. Kamijou," Kuroko replied to the surprised teen. "I, too, am looking to buy dangos; we shall head toward the stand together."

Touma, surprised by this sudden show of unexpected hospitality, stood silent for few moments before remembering his manners. "-I see," he belatedly replied. "Thanks, Shirai-san."

_Humph._

With a swift spin of her heel Kuroko spun around toward the direction of the stand and began her brisk pace, sparing not one glance behind her. Touma, still surprised at the rapid turn of events, followed behind her after a tentative pause.

An awkward silence fell between them on their walk. Kuroko was not interested in an extended conversation with Touma, and Touma couldn't think of much small talk suitable for someone like... well, her, either.

He did, however, see something to talk about when they reached the dango stand. About a dozen people were already on the queue, waiting to buy a dango themselves.

"-I guess others wanted a dango, too," Touma muttered.

"-So it seems," Kuroko deadpanned.

And silence fell between them again. They stood in their queue, waiting.

_Certainly a scenario I did not expect myself to be in,_ Kuroko remarked to herself. One could possibly mistake them being together. Kuroko snorted. _As if._ They were both interested in someone else, that someone else being onee-sama, for her... and, presumably, for him, also.

She felt her mouth thin at such a thought.

Well, it was a presumption at best, and a presumption she hoped it was. Though, anyone and everyone ought to pursue onee-sama. She was certainly popular enough; people were not dull enough to be unable to recognize her beauty and... sheer allure. Fu fu fu fu.

That surely ought to be the reason why this monkey was attracted to her as well, Kuroko considered, casting a sidelong glance at the highschooler standing next to her. While she was right there with him - a rare event to be sure - why not ask for his reasoning? She was not completely sure why, but she wished to hear his own reasoning as to why he was courting her as well.

"Mr. Kamijou," Kuroko spoke up, "do you like onee-sama?"

Touma choked in response.

"It's a simple question, Mr. Kamijou," Kuroko mercilessly pressed onward, turning and facing him directly. "A yes, or a no..."

Silence. A troubled expression now graced his face.

"...Well," he replied after some pause. "To tell you the truth..."

"Yes?" Kuroko pressed further.

"It's-"

Then their attention was suddenly taken by a shout, from above.  
When Kuroko and Touma looked up, they saw a blue paint can falling toward them.

_Teleport,_ Kuroko thought to herself. But when she grabbed Touma's arm to teleport, her ability suddenly refused to function...

_Just like last time,_ she belatedly recalled. _Why can't I... teleport...?_

By the time she thought of teleporting on her own or leaping aside, the paint can was already a mere foot above them; a little too late.

But Touma had just as much time to react as her; and his methods were more simple. In one fluid motion he pushed Kuroko to the side and enveloped her with his entire body in a tight embrace.

_SPLASH!_

The blue paint covered Touma's entire head and back. The can smashed and bounced against the concrete a foot or two away from them.

...

...

...

_T-this feeling, this impression of being enveloped in this sort of physical intimacy...!_

His body type was such that he was capable of the physical impression of which her onee-sama, what with her small frame, was not capable of.

(Not that her onee-sama voluntarily hugged her all that much, anyhow.)

The sheer emotions sparked by the impact she received from his embrace... it terrified her.

_Me, becoming enamored by that ape's apelike physicality...? NO!_

...

...

...

The lips of the construction worker that came down to apologize were white as a sheet.

The back of our unfortunate high school boy anyone can find anywhere was now completely drenched in the color of royal blue. But Touma didn't even appear annoyed, much to Kuroko's surprise. With a blasé expression he reassured the apologetic worker.

The fact that he did not lose his temper perplexed Kuroko.

_An ape, but still a gentleman at the end of the day, hmm?_

Normally, by this point, Kuroko ought to be mercilessly accusing this monkey who _dared_ to besmirch her thus with his flesh of somehow orchestrating this entire event in order to gain a chance at that repulsive physical skinship, but oddly, her mind at that moment was rather preoccupied with other mix of emotions.

Mainly, as to just how...

...

..._soothing_ it felt, that embrace of his.

She disliked the degree to which she, well, enjoyed that hug. It now began to concern her immensely.

_They say he has a disease women are susceptible to..._ Kuroko remarked to herself, her mouth gradually becoming drier with tension. _I can see why they say that._

This was no time to be succumbing to that disease of his, Kuroko decidedly judged. It was paramount that she kept her mind sharp and focused, especially at moments such as these; her attention ought to be on her onee-sama and her only, not on that man-ape-

"Miss? Miss," the dango stand worker snapped her out from her internal struggle. "Four Mango Dangos. That'll be 2,000 yens."

"A-ah," Kuroko rushed to take out her purse. "Of course. My apologies."

_Focus,_ Kuroko berated herself.

* * *

It was now nighttime.

Usually, when she was awake, and when onee-sama was asleep, she took that opportunity to drink in her onee-sama's deep-in-slumber, beautiful countenance with her yearning, ravenous eyes.

And that was what she was attempting to do at that moment.

However, this night, her mind was far, far elsewhere, focused on a completely unrelated sensation...

Namely, the gentle sensation of comfort she felt while being enveloped by his arms.

With silent cries of rage she twisted around in her bed, throttling her pillow. Why!? Why!? How did the turn of events end up in this direction!?

Kuroko grit her teeth. This was all that ape's doing. Surely, this was purposeful. By inflicting his accursed disease upon her, surely his plan was to keep her distracted thus while using all his wile and guile to charm onee-sama into his filthy grasp!

She did not get much sleep that night.

* * *

Uiharu was late today.

It was unusual for her to be this late... it has already been an hour and it still was just her in the Judgment 177 Branch Office, filing away civilian data.

Perhaps she was out sick... ill health was the only reason someone committed like Uiharu would miss responsibility over. As playful and, at times, air-headed as she could be, Uiharu was very much serious when it came to responsibilities.

Then, in middle of her thoughts, she heard the office door opening.

_Must be Uiharu,_ Kuroko thought. "Are you alright?" Kuroko inquired as she turned around to see-

That ape standing in the doorway.

"-Mr. Kamijou," Kuroko resumed after a prolonged pause. "Are you in need of Judgment assistance?," Kuroko sighed, turning her attention back to her computer monitor.

_Really, visiting me even into the Judgment Office... this boy..._

"Well, yes, actually." Touma gave a weak smile. "I wanted to talk to you, Shirai-san."

It took Kuroko several beats to process that statement. After another prolonged pause - her gaze still firmly fixed on her monitor - she finally replied:

"Regarding what subject, Mr. Kamijou?"

"Well, about how I tackled you to shield you from that paint can."

_Khh,_ Kuroko inwardly grimaced. Had this boy no tact?

"I suppose I am indeed overdue in receiving an apology," she decidedly declared while turning around again to face Touma. "Though, I _am_ skeptical as to if I should expect to receive any suitable apology that would restitute the amount of personal boundary you crossed; as to whether you are even capable of delivering such an apology in the first place... but that is all fine, really, Mr. Kamijou. Out of my own substantial magnanimity, I accept your apologetic feelings... so let us leave it at that."

"...I... see." Touma, admittedly taken aback by the sudden speech, still continued on regardless, with a hesitant smile on his face. "I guess I should apologize, for invading your personal space, and all that... But, mainly, I wished to talk to you. About that event, sure, but, well, the focus being.. more on how _I_ felt, I guess."

_What is he even saying...?_

Kuroko, now outwardly, grimaced. "-And, by that, you mean... what, to be precise?"

"Well." Touma paused, then placed his fingers on his chin in contemplation.

At that exact, precise moment, Kuroko was struck by how suddenly, well, _dashing_ Touma appeared right then and there. His cheekbones appeared sharp and his eyes became penetrating.

_No, no, no- focus,_ Kuroko admonished herself. _Do not be distracted thus._

But it became worse. For some unfathomable reason, Touma became more bold and forceful in his words and mannerisms.

"When I hugged you back there, it felt... pretty amazing, to be honest."

"!?"

"At that moment, I felt a pretty strong urge to protect you, Shirai-san. You felt like a delicate little doll that only comes into this world once a millennia, a rarity that ought to be cherished and protected at any cost. That, if I were to fail to hold on to you, I'd regret it and would continue to regret it. That, I would set my face against the entire world if it meant protecting you."

Kuroko's face became increasingly pinker and pinker as Touma went on and on; now, it was crimson.

"W-what?" She stammered.

Suddenly he swooped upon her; suddenly his face was now mere inches from her. "I want to feel that amazing feeling again, Shirai-san. Let's hug in that position again. I hope you don't mind."

Of course she did mind! But at the same time, she was completely, utterly lost and unsure. Her mind was now a colorful fusion of anxiety and... more anxiety. She pushed herself back until she felt the monitor come in contact with the back of her head; her view was now fully focused on Touma, whose - excessively - determined expression was somehow almost hypnotizing.

It approached the point where her breathing became irregular. Panicking, she snapped her eyes shut, her senses going into overdrive-

"Kuroko!"

She snapped her eyes open. Onee-sama!

"Come on; we'll be late."

It was broad daylight.

"...Ah."


	2. Pity

It must be some sort of trick, Kuroko concluded. Whatever this feeling she felt now was... it was definitely abnormal. Their encounter yesterday, and the physical contact that occurred soon after... they were all definitely abnormal.

For one, that incident was not the first time he and her had this physical contact. Oh yes, the amount of times she got into such outrageous incidents were not low... even she herself had trouble accepting that fact that she had that much to do with him. When she was in his arms, carried princess style, during that fight she had with that Move Point, she most certainly was not suddenly struck with that feeling... at the least, not immediately. Though, in regards to that specific case, she was under such a serious pain during that moment. She could not even think straight at the time, much less feel any sort of close physical contact...

"You feeling okay?" Mikoto glanced at Kuroko in concern. "You've been pretty out of it all morning."

"O-oh yes, onee-sama," Kuroko forced a smile. "Ol' Kuroko is merely preoccupied with... work."

_Oh yes... how convincing,_ Kuroko internally groaned.

"...I see." Misaka smiled. "I know you, Kuroko; you'll have it all figured out, soon enough."

"Ah, onee-sama!" Kuroko swooned, collapsing herself upon Misaka...

...and receiving her daily dose of electricity in response.

_Yes,_ Kuroko told herself. _Yes..._ this was how things ought to be. Just her and her wonderful onee-sama. Whatever abnormal feelings she felt yesterday, they were all temporary, just a one-time incident...

Still irked her, nevertheless; the idea that that ape had that sort of ability where he could emotionally throw off apparently any female in his vicinity with his sheer presence... including herself. It really did feel like there was some foul play involved here.

Come to think of it, she never really did look into his data, not yet. Surely, as a student of the Academy City, he must possess some sort of ability. It may very well be that all that occurred was him using his ability on her in order to throw her off balance. That would also explain that abnormal dream she had yesterday. Yes... yes...

As a member of the Judgment, she'll get to the bottom of this...

* * *

The situation has, indubitably, taken a turn for the worse.

As days went by, again and again Kuroko felt her mind turning back to that incident, that time and place again, and, ultimately, upon Touma.

It was driving her _nuts_. Clearly, he was mentally affecting her thus, in some way, somehow. But grasping as to what exactly it was or was about him that was doing this was too much of a mental task for her currently hazy mind, polluted thus by that incident.

One thing was for sure; whatever this bother she was inflicted thus with was, it was something substantial enough to distract her from her onee-sama... it couldn't be left alone, ignored. She needed to nip this in the bud, quickly.

It was about due time she looked into just what his ability was in the Data Bank, anyhow. For too long was he left alone, uninvestigated. If it turned out that he was using some sort of cheap Esper ability on her thus.. the very thought burned her face in indignation of such humiliation.

Let's see... 'Kamijou Touma', his name was. In few clicks she was already upon his profile. Within it, it was stated that his level was...

Zero.

Nonsense, Kuroko decidedly remarked to herself. Not from what she personally witnessed. Some things did definitely occur when he was involved. She could neither teleport him nor herself when she was in physical contact with him. And, he definitely performed some sort of action at the end of her fight with that Move Point. He was most definitely not a Level Zero.

But, at the same time, it was unimaginable to think that the Power Curriculum Program would make that sort of mistake, listing someone with clear display of... well, something, as a Level Zero.

But, at the same time, it was also unimaginable to think the Data Bank would purposefully reflect false information. Raise the security clearance level if needed, sure, but purposefully reflecting false information for the purpose of obfuscation?

Perhaps... he had a tiny amount of power, but not enough to be considered a Level 1 more more. But that still did not explain his powers. Oddly, his profile also lacked a name for his ability, whatever it might be.

So, what as it?

Questions instead of answers flooded her mind as she continued to read his file onward.

His history was as such:

He was not born here. Rather, he was admitted into the Academy City after he graduated kindergarten. Which meant that he went through the admission process and was approved, somehow, despite his lack of ability; despite him still — showing to be — lacking ability.

In such cases of admission, there usually was some sort of interview with the parents of the student in question conducted by the admission staff researchers...

And, indeed, there was one. Might as well, Kuroko decided, and played the interview recording.

Sitting on stage right was a middle aged man, a common businessman anyone can find anywhere.

That was where her focus on him should have ended and for her gaze to go elsewhere. But for some odd reason, she couldn't move her attention elsewhere that easily. As plain and average as he first appeared to be, there was something more to him under that unassuming visage; or, at the very least, it kept up the appearance of such.

"Like father, like son, hmm...?" Kuroko mumbled.

So that was what his father looked like.

Sitting next to him, on stage left, was presumably his mother.

_An actual ojou-sama,_ Kuroko thought to herself. _She's... beautiful._

"Thank you for being here," the interviewer's voice jolted Kuroko out from her reverie. "I have your son's research results with me here today."

Then, Kuroko saw it. It took her a minute or two, but she saw it: the indentations and ridges of worry and concern etched deeply, too deeply into the faces of both the mother and the father.

Something was wrong, Kuroko surmised.

"But first," the voice continued. "I wish to hear from you your reasonings as to why you wish to enroll your son, Kamijou Touma, into the Academy City."

...

"Well," the father began. "From what I have heard, Academy City is a purely scientific city, with no concept of luck, charms, misfortune, superstition, or any such paranormal that has no scientific basis."

Kuroko nodded.

"That is correct," the interviewer nodded.

"Our son, Touma," the father continued, "suffers from... how should I put it... _witch hunts._

Kuroko, furrowing her brow, leaned forward into her computer monitor. Witch hunts?

"Which hunts?" The interviewer echoed her thoughts.

"I'm not sure what to call it..." the father gave a weak shake of his head. "Let me start from the beginning."

Then he paused, gathering his thoughts.

Then he began:

"The most common complaint made against my son is that he causes... misfortune, to all around him."

_Misfortune?_ Kuroko wondered.

"Misfortune," the interviewer repeated.

"So they say," the father looked as if he was in pain. "For some reason or another, anyone who gets near him sooner or later blames any unfortunate event that happen to them on our son. If it was an incident or two we would merely chalk them off as nonsense... but it happens without fail no matter where we relocate to. We moved houses several times now because of this. It makes no sense to any of us."

"Now," the interview interjected. "It is important that you start from the beginning and explain all details. Remember, this is my first time hearing anything about this."

"Yes, my apologies," the father replied, his expression becoming more grayer as he went on. "To reiterate, ever since our son was born, he was hurled insults, not only by fellow children, but by grown adults as well. 'Demon of Pestilence', he was called." The father gritted his teeth. "Those 'grown adults' not only did nothing when children threw rocks at our son, but joined in the insults as well. If a kid playing with our son suddenly tripped and fell, he would immediately blame his injury on our son. If another child received a bad grade from his assignment, he would blame that on our son. One child even went as far as to blame the hospitalization of his parent on our son. It all cumulated in that one incident where a businessman who went bankrupt _stabbed our son with a kitchen knife,_ blaming him for his venture failures."

...

...

...

_What?_

The bewilderment in Kuroko's mind, if possible, became worse.

Before, expression of anger was clear on the father's face; now, it was completely unreadable. Perhaps he was suppressing all emotions in order to not lose control over himself. _His mother,_ Kuroko thought as she turned her attention to the left, _his mother..._

The mother's expression was unreadable as well. The only difference she could tell from before was that the bags under her eyes became darker than ever.

She couldn't think. Her mind felt like it was slogging through molasses. What was even going on?

"Be as that may," the interview recording, unaware of her current, unexpected internal struggle, went onward, "all that tells me is that your son was merely unpopular with those around him. What sort of useful data do such stories provide us with? Luck, fortune, misfortune... such concepts are effects unable to be quantitatively measured by science.

_Rude,_ Kuroko thought automatically.

That in of itself was somewhat surprising. Removed from context, what that interviewer said was in line with what Kuroko herself believed in regards to 'luck' in general. But in this certain case...

She felt defensive for Mr. Kamijou's sake.

She didn't know how to feel about that; she didn't know how to feel about all this... development.

Perhaps she was continuing to succumb to that disease of his.

Perhaps she was beginning to suspect that this misfortune of his was a sort of an actual observable phenomenon.

Perhaps... it was because her view was filled with the face of his mother and his father, wrought and twisted in various mixture of emotions, all in their concern for their son. His father's face went from grimace to forbearance to anger to expressionlessness. His mother's face, upon retelling of such series of unsavory events, now grew into an expression of resigned yet elegant disdain, if such an expression was possible.

Except for her eyes. Her eyes betrayed her true emotions; they were shining brighter than usual, most likely due to collection of fluids.

"Regardless, I am not done speaking," Mr. Kamijou's father spoke on, hard determination filling his voice. "It has come to a point where a TV show sent cameras and reporters after _our son_ to film his misfortune in a _form of a show for their own amusement and profit._"

A pause. Several seconds passed before he concluded:

"That is why we wish to send our son to the Academy City, a place where superstition _does not exist_. We are afraid. Not of any superstition or misfortune or anything such, but we are afraid of those children and men that do believe in such superstition, that they may at some point go too far. Protecting him thus means us being separated from our son, our family splitting apart. Is it worth it?"

The father paused again.

"I don't know. But his safety is what is most important to us."

...

"Be as that may," the interviewer repeated himself. "The research results is the main decider in this enrollment process. In terms of academics... his scores are certainly not helping him. In terms of ability level... all tests failed to have him produce anything of note, failed to generate any data useful to the Power Curriculum Program at all. In fact, while every other student who went through the Power Curriculum Program managed to produce _some_ sort of AIM Diffusion Field, every equipment involved in this admissions process _failed to detect any trace of AIM Diffusion Field at all from your son._"

...

...

...

_What?_

No trace of _any_ AIM Diffusion Field at all? That was not possible.

Anyone, even Level Zeroes, were shown to emit at the very least a tiniest trace of AIM Diffusion Field upon having gone through the Curriculum. Producing no trace of AIM Diffusion Field at all... that was physically impossible.

In summary, the conclusion of the interview was thus: Kamijou Touma could not qualify for admission into the Academy City.

"Thank you for your time."

That was that, it appeared. Mr. Kamijou's parents stood and prepared to leave after gathering their belongings. For their part, they made little protest to the conclusion of the interview nor to the interviewer's lack of any substantial concern for their child. Most likely, they ran out of energy to do so after such a retelling.

But, at that moment, a phone rang.

That phone was located on the side of a wall of that interview room.

The interviewer and the parents, after looking at the phone, briefly exchanged glances.

"Excuse me," the interviewer spoke before picking up the phone:

"..."

"Yes," the interviewer replied.

"...

"..."

"...Understood," the interviewer finally replied, and hung up the phone.

He then met the gazes of the father and the mother, the gazes half filled with curiosity and half filled with expectation.

He gave a noncommitmental shrug. "However unfortunate your son may be, Mr. and Mrs. Kamijou, it appears that he is... not unlucky enough."

* * *

_What even was that?_ Kuroko wondered to herself after the interview recording came to a halt after showing the interviewer congratulate the two Kamijou parents.

She brought her hands up to her face and covered it. She rubbed her eyes in mental exhaustion. Her body was in Ashita no Joe pose.

Demon of Pestilence? Stabbings? _Absolute lack of AIM Diffusion Field?_

Time... she needed time to absorb all such information...

Harassed and assaulted and injured by children and adults alike for... what, _misfortune_?

And those expressions on the faces of his father and mother all along the interview...

Kuroko felt pity wash over her heart. He suffered all that? In kindergarten?

As much of an ape as he was, he still behaved like a gentlemen in all moments. Sure, it most probably was all an act, as she still suspected, put up to conceal his true character. But still...

...Stabbing a kindergartner over perceived misfortune? To an average person such an act was inconceivable. To someone as vigorously removed from all superstition like Kuroko, such an act was sheer insanity.

To think that that gentleman was the same gentleman who, with a genial attitude, shrugged off a wave of paint from the sky with not so much as a frown...?

She thought back to how it felt to be carried by him after that battle she had with Move Point.

She thought back to how, well, comforting it felt to be enveloped in his arms.

Whatever the reason was... she found herself oddly, maddeningly feeling sorrow for Mr. Kamijou.

...

He did not deserve that sort of unacceptable treatment. She did not tolerate vile behavior toward others. She was a member of the Judgment; her job included the task of upholding civil order. After learning this piece of information, her main task now became thus: to examine the life of Mr. Kamijou Touma to see if he was receiving same such treatment in this city as he received elsewhere.

Two birds with one stone... she'll use this opportunity to examine both his ability, and his surroundings.


	3. Bowls of Ramen

Just like the night before, Kuroko did not get much sleep that night.

She probably went through miles upon miles of security footage around Academy City in order to examine Mr. Kamijou's life and his surroundings.

In consequence, she now had quite some insight into Mr. Kamijou's... uh, 'nightlife's.

From run-ins to a disgruntled group of hooligans (...over a girl),  
To a bunch of exploding cargo containers in the Switchyard of District 17 (with which, some uncertain reason, Kuroko had a feeling Mr. Kamijou had something to do with),  
To a run-in to an irate group of muggers (...over a girl),  
To the destruction that occurred at a restaurant, which, according to the footage, he was eating in with that silver-haired sister of his (though, that destruction apparently was no fault of his...),  
To a run-in to a distempered group of thugs (...was that onee-sama!?)...

Kuroko didn't really knew what to expect before diving into all this.

And now, she didn't really knew what she even saw, either.

Suppressing a yawn, she looked down on her clipboard, to see what she had noted so far:

'Missing footages... tampering?'

The one odd thing she noticed here and there was... just how irregular footage captures became whenever he was around. The footage itself would be fine and intact on its own, but then whenever he showed up, then came odd omissions and various errors that resulted in significant duration of footages missing, and then, invariably, some form of considerable collateral damage followed. Were those footages tampered with? If so, than by whom? And did he have anything to do with those considerable collateral damages that followed thereafter?

'Girls.'

And a lot of them.. whenever he was around, some lady or other were around with him, sometimes near, sometimes not, sometimes, seemingly strangers, never coming in close contact, which made such footages more difficult to analyze... odd. Very odd.

'Misfortune.'

Yes, misfortune. Regardless of how hard she found it to believe, he _did_ seem to suffer from strange, strange bouts of absolutely... horrid fortune. Broken phones, tripping over cans, Security Robot troubles, three-on-one fights, merciless gang beatdowns... he seemed to experience three times more 'misfortune' in his daily life than his peers.

None of this made sense.

With her two hands covering her face, she leaned back on her chair and let out a sigh.

"Is something the matter?" Uiharu asked from a desk away.

"Well..." _I suppose you could say that._

Perhaps, it was now time for herself to examine him first-hand.

The time for that high school to end for the day was near, at any rate.

"Uiharu, I'll be out early today. I have some special monitoring to perform on a potential suspect."

"–I see..." Uiharu trailed off with uncertainty as she watched Kuroko exit the office. "What's the suspect in suspicion of?"

_Womanizing, if I dare say so,_ Kuroko mentally responded, but thought that response to be rather unprofessional to audibly utter. "For... public property damages, it seems."

"Okay, if you say so..." Uiharu hummed in response, sensing antics coming ahead in future time.

* * *

For all intents and purposes, Kuroko reflected, Mr. Kamijou really could have been a normal boy living a normal life.

Now, the use of the phrase 'could have been' was necessary, because Mr. Kamijou, while having all the markings of an absolutely average person, was most decidedly the furthest thing from the sort.

They were now in a local mart.

After having watched Mr. Kamijou exit his school, thronged with two particular individuals, one with blue hair (Kuroko was not certain, but she had a feeling she saw that person's face in the database somewhere... for some sort of... public indecency in his past record? But she wasn't sure), and other with blonde hair and sunglasses. And after parting ways with them, upon checking the time, Mr. Kamijou exclaimed something about needing to rush to the mart on time for some 'vital source of proteins', or something along those lines.

Not that his trip to the mart was a smooth sailing, to be sure. Just as she had examined beforehand yesterday night, quite a number of unfathomably odd events occurred around him.

In sum total, so far, she today prevented:

Him neglecting his dropped wallet when a bystander stumbled into him (how careless...);  
Him wandering unawares into a roaming group of Skill-Outs (a group that usually only grouped together at night, seemingly popping up in broad afternoon, when he was around... really?);  
Rebooting a Cleaning Robot that continued to follow him around for some reason (how was it that they stopped being 100% operationally normal, as they should be, whenever he was around?);  
Knocking off a soccer ball headed toward his head (good thing she was good at darts; too bad about the ruptured soccer ball, though);  
And, in addition, she made a point of taking various measures to try to guide him away from any female students she saw on streets ahead. Nothing good would've come from such encounters.

What a busy life Mr. Kamijou led. A single day seemed like a week with this person.

...And here they were.

Waiting on a line.

For about... two hours now.

Having done extensive observation on her own the past night, Kuroko was well aware of Touma's reasons. The main issue here was that, perhaps most likely due to his low Esper status, he was rather strapped for cash, and found it necessary to 'clip some number of coupons', so to speak.

Hence this two hour wait for discount eggs.

And she was also in the line, a length or two behind him.

It was becoming admittedly boring, but Kuroko was used to such lack of activity during her patrols. At any case, she needed to keep a constant eye on him.

* * *

Kamijou Touma, at that moment, was a nervous wreck.

For some odd reason, he today so far managed to avoid any sort of unfortunate incident. He oddly took prompt notice of his surroundings and took control before it was too late to act.

That could mean only one thing: the day itself was charging up for some concentrated dose of misfortune to crush him with. That was the most likely conclusion.

With bated breath he waited until it was his turn to purchase that carton of dozen eggs. Perhaps... they could run out right when his turn arrived. Who knows.

But that didn't happen either. With extra to spare he was able to buy his carton of discounted eggs, and he left the store safe and sound.

With apprehension, and careful scanning of the skies (perhaps, he may get hit by a stray piece of hail; it did happen before), he headed home with vigilance.

Then, on the way, he caught a glimpse of his favorite ramen stand, in the same corner it always was located on.

A bowl of ramen, bigger portion than in other stands he saw, for measly 300 yen.

That particular stand had quite an infamy. Upon once being asked as to what was inside those ramen, the apathetic chef famously replied: 'I dunno, some chemicals, I suppose?'

"..."

_gulp._

He was seriously testing his luck today. But he was craving for a bowl of ramen.

After another careful scanning of his perimeter (...as for what, though, he couldn't fathom. A stray dog droppings, perhaps), he carefully marched on toward that ramen stand.

* * *

The thing about poverty was, you didn't really perceive it as what it was until you've experienced it.

In this case, she was witnessing a lot of it, today.

In this instance, she didn't really expect him to actually order _something_ from that... (to put it mildly), questionable looking ramen stand.

And now, she was watching him, that Mr. Kamijou, wolfing down on those... questionable looking noodles...

At that moment, that image, that scene of Mr. Kamijou happily going to town with that bowl of ramen... that unsavory looking bowl of noodles girls at Tokiwadai wouldn't even look twice if they saw a dog eating it...

Kuroko suddenly felt again a tug in one of her heartstrings. It just looked... bleak. The whole situation, bleak.

What they both did not realize then, was that that unfortunate boy's string of misfortune was not yet over.

* * *

Kamijou Touma heard fire sensor sirens before.

For example, ones in any typical facility. Or ones on a fire truck. Carbon Monoxide detectors also were a common feature in modern times.

But this particular siren that hammered directly down on his ear this moment... that amount of noise... it was really something else.

It initially struck him with such a force to the point where his vision _blurred._ In confusion he rung his head to and fro, dazed.

**BRRRT. BRRRT. BRRRT.**

A pause.

**BRRRT. BRRRT. BRRRT.**

A pause.

**BRRRT. BRRRT. BRRRT.**

And repeat.

Like a jackhammer directly on his ear.

It numb his hearing to the point where he couldn't even coherently make out the surprised shouts of others around him.

* * *

Apparently, the cause of that alarm was a ruptured sewer pipe located underneath an adjacent building.

Most conveniently, Kuroko was right there, so she filed the Judgment paperwork that detailed that event that took place.

Though, really, she had to say... that alarm was quite loud. Even now she massaged her ears here and there, fluttering her eyes.

She actually began to feel fatigue, believe it or not. Attempting to counter Mr. Kamijou's misfortune was... rather exhausting. This level of effort was not something she expected to put in today–

"–It's a massacre."

Kuroko turned to see Mr. Kamijou squatting on the floor, examining the groceries he bought, some of which had been unfortunately crushed while nearby bystanders rushed away from the fire alarm.

He just couldn't catch a break, could he.

"My vital source of protein..." he held up his carton of egg, more than a half, shattered. "After all this... after lining up for two hours... "

Then, as if sensing her presence, he turned around his head to spot her staring at him.

"..."

"..."

"...Mr. Kamijou." Kuroko first initiated the flow of the conversation.

"–Shirai-san," Touma replied, surprised to see her.

"My... condolences on your interrupted meal."

"Ah, well, you know... it happens."

_No, not really, not to rest of us..._ Kuroko internally doubted.

* * *

They say that the way a person looks like to you changes as you continue to see them often.

Anthropologists seem to theorize that such is so because of human beings' innate urge to continue the survival of the species; over time, anyone begins to look more endearing.

Right now, Shirai-san, illuminated by that orange azure of the sun sinking into the horizon, seemed to appear to him in a... different light, factually speaking, and metaphorically speaking. He couldn't exactly tell why, but as he continued to look at her, standing there, her towering legs, her left hand at her hip, her arched and proud back, her pursed pink lips, her flint-like gaze of brown, her ever-so-slightly furrowed brows... despite her child-like stature, she looked, well, professional. Much professional.

...Like some sort of dorm manager, almost.

* * *

"–Well, you are in luck, Mr. Kamijou," Kuroko continued, "I myself have not yet dined tonight. In the light of what happened just now, I will treat you to a meal tonight, on me."

With a swift spin of her heel Kuroko spun around and walked off, trying not to think about what she just did.

"...Hai?"

* * *

She took him to a real ramen stand. Not like that decrepit derelict wreck of a wayside stand that insisted upon being considered to be some sort of legitimate source of food dispenser, (though, Touma would mightily protest upon hearing his beloved ramen stand being described as such), but to a real ramen stand, one actually under a proper roof.

"S-Shirai-san," Touma gulped, "Is this..."

"Well, it was protein you wished, was it not?"

A Short-Rib Ramen.

Something he didn't even knew it actually existed. This was something he only saw on TV, while Index eagerly devoured the glass screen with her rapt gaze.

Touma cast an uncertain glance toward her. "–How much...?"

"It's impolite to ask about the price to the one picking up the tab, Mr. Kamijou. Come, let us eat."

Touma had to put in effort to not let tears escape his eyes, while he ate.

In fact, he, being so focused on his own bowl, did not notice how Kuroko was not eating much at all. She was observing him too closely for her to remember to actually eat.

(One might actually mistake those two, with how intently she was gazing at him).

She initially thought that she'd get some answers if she analyzed him long enough.

But... she only found herself asking more questions now.


End file.
